Ivy & Bone, page 6
Cyrus blinked, something unreadable stirring in his silver eyes. For a moment, he stared at her, his mouth slightly open and his brow furrowing. Just when Prue thought he would spit at her or laugh in her face, he nodded stiffly.
Prue almost chuckled in surprise. But, thankfully, the sound was stuck in her throat.
Cyrus turned away from her and began chanting, his Latin flawless. Prue exhaled in relief before she joined him.
The ghosts screeched, ricocheting off the barrier again and again. Energy thrummed in the air, tickling Prue’s skin. She felt her hair stand on end, her curls rising. Sweat pooled in her palms and along her neck and back. On either side of her, Polina and Cyrus’s grips tightened as if they felt the strain, too. Prue’s arms shook, her bones quivering. Her teeth chattered as she continued uttering the spell, refusing to back down. A whisper of power brushed down her neck. The ghosts continued to scream and rage.
Then, a burst of gold light surrounded the barrier, igniting in the sky like a beam of heavenly light. Pain shot through Prue’s limbs, and her palm felt scorching hot. Gritting her teeth against the intensity, Prue continued chanting.
Come on, she urged. Just a little longer.
The ghosts unleashed one last pitiful scream before they faded and dissolved entirely. The fog dispersed, revealing the midnight sky above them. When the gold light vanished, Prue blinked at the sudden darkness that swallowed them. The village was eerily silent, and for one horrible moment, Prue expected the screaming to start anew.
Cyrus released her hand, and a sudden rush of fatigue overcame her. Her form drooped, and Polina caught her by the shoulders, keeping her upright. On the other side, Beatrice wilted as well, her breaths short and feeble. Polina, however, wasn’t even winded.
“Look,” Beatrice breathed, raising a shaking hand to point toward the sea in the distance.
Prue squinted, making out a faint golden gleam highlighting the sky. With a gasp, she realized it was the spell—for on the other side of the gold light was that same ethereal fog, the horde of spirits waiting for them. Their magic had formed an enchanted dome of safety around the island, but on the other side, the spirits loomed, eager to devour them.
And Prue and Cyrus would be heading straight for them.
FLEE
CYRUS
Cyrus might loathe these witches with every fiber of his being, but he couldn’t deny the raw and magnificent power emanating from them. Particularly the Mother, Polina. He’d never seen such powerful witch fire before—powerful enough to cut through the souls of the Underworld.
And Prudence . . . Well, he had already sensed her power when she’d summoned him. But something about watching the three witches as their magic converged knotted something inside Cyrus’s chest.
He and his brothers and his father—they never had that. And they never would. They would always be rivals instead of allies.
“We need to go,” Prudence said, tugging on Cyrus’s arm.
He opened his mouth to berate her for addressing him so callously, but before he could, Polina interjected, “Now? You need rest, Prudence. Look at you!”
Prudence did indeed look exhausted. Shadows framed her eyes, and her skin took on a sickly pallor.
“No, look at that,” Prudence said, her voice surprisingly firm as she gestured to the souls on the other side of the barrier. “The spirits are still out there. Even if they aren’t in Krenia, I can’t doom the rest of the realm to this. We have to fix this. Now.”
Polina’s mouth opened and closed, her eyes filled with anguish. “Prudence, I . . .” She trailed off as Prudence looked at her with the same intense regret.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Prudence whispered. Tears spilled down her face. “I wish there had been another way. But it should’ve been me. It always should’ve been me. I know you believe it, too.”
Polina released a small whimper of anguish before pulling her daughter into a fierce embrace. Polina stroked Prudence’s hair with such affection and tenderness that Cyrus had to look away, his throat burning. He would blame it on the pomegranate tea, but he knew better.
Witnessing such emotion between a mother and daughter made Cyrus feel strangely empty inside. He had never known his mother, so how could he miss something he’d never known? When asked about it, Aidoneus would only say she was a goddess from another realm and leave it at that, refusing to elaborate further. Aidoneus himself had been far from fatherly.
A sudden surge of impatience flared in Cyrus’s chest. Thinking of Aidoneus reminded him of the dangers awaiting him in the Underworld. He had to return as soon as possible before his father and brothers destroyed the entire realm.
“Are you quite finished?” Cyrus snapped.
The women pulled apart, and Polina shot him a glare before returning her gaze to her daughter. “There is always a way, my dear. Don’t forget that. And promise me you won’t stop searching for it.”
Prudence pressed her lips together and nodded, though Cyrus caught the darkness that flashed in her lavender eyes.
She had no plans to survive this. Perhaps Polina noticed this as well, because she sighed heavily, closing her eyes against the steady flow of tears.
Prudence touched Beatrice’s shoulder. The older woman offered a frail smile, pressing her forehead to Prudence’s. “Be safe, dear,” Beatrice whispered.
The younger witch only nodded before turning away, not bothering to check if Cyrus followed. But he wasn’t about to linger in this decrepit fish town, surrounded by hateful witches, for any longer than he had to. With a heavy sigh, he hurried after Prue, finding it much easier to navigate along the road without the fog of souls to mask his view. Even in the darkness, his immortal eyes could still see perfectly, for which he was grateful.
Ahead of him, Prudence sniffed and wiped at her face, and Cyrus rolled his eyes. These witches might be powerful, but they were still delicate creatures, prone to emotion and weakness.
And this wretched woman had somehow bound his powers? No. Impossible.
Cyrus stopped in his tracks, going completely stiff. The rage and indignation roared inside him, and he could no longer hold it at bay. And why should he? He was not some puppet, some weapon to be wielded at the whims of some inexperienced witch.
Prudence seemed to sense his halting steps. She turned and glanced over her shoulder. “What are you doing? Come on, we need to leave!”
“No,” Cyrus bit out. He was finished being ordered around like some slave.
Prudence’s eyebrows shot up as she stomped toward him, closing the distance between them. “No? I’m sorry, do you have somewhere better to be? I was under the impression you wanted to return home.”
“Not if it means being chained to you. I’d gladly roam this awful realm on my own if it means freeing myself from this bondage.” He spat each word like it was a foul curse.
Prudence’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t give a damn what you want. You’re bound to me, and you can’t hurt me. You vowed you wouldn’t until we reached the gate. So you can either follow me to the docks or I’ll drag you there myself.”
Cyrus huffed a dry laugh as he scrutinized her tired gaze and frizzy hair. She was in no shape to drag a god anywhere. He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “All right. Go on and drag me.”
Prudence blinked, her face slackening in shock. Cyrus watched her smugly, amusement mingling with satisfaction within him. At long last, he had bested her. And he reveled in it.
Freedom at last.
Cyrus spread his arms. “I’m waiting.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Prudence said through clenched teeth.
He scoffed. “I didn’t have time to be yanked away from my home against my will, and yet, here we are.”
“Cyrus—”
He took a step closer to her, baring his teeth. “I am not moving from this spot unless forced.” He cocked his head and smirked. “Of course, you could always just run off to your dear mama and ask her to do the work for you.”
Rage burned in Prudence’s eyes, and Cyrus knew he’d struck a nerve. His smile widened.
“Why?” she snarled. “Why are you doing this? You hate this realm! Don’t you want to go back home?”
“What I want right now is to inconvenience you the same way you inconvenienced me.”
Prudence threw her hands in the air. “You are a child!”
Cyrus merely continued grinning at her, knowing he’d won.
Then she looked at him, the ire fading from her face as something cool and calculating took over. “Oh, I get it now.”
Cyrus’s smile faltered. “What?”
“You’re the devil. Torturing people is your specialty.” She waved a hand between them, a slow smile spreading across her face. “That’s what you’re doing right now. You’re torturing me.”
Cyrus frowned. He didn’t like the gleam in her eyes. Not one bit. “For your information, I merely oversee the realm of the Underworld. Usually, the torture is reserved for lesser beings like demons.”
“Regardless, you’d still have to be pretty skilled in order to be the ruler of all that, wouldn’t you?” She tilted her chin and gazed up at him, adoration glowing in her eyes.
Suspicion bloomed in Cyrus’s thoughts. What was she doing? “Yes,” he said slowly, not trusting where this conversation was headed.
“You like toying with the mortals, don’t you?” Prudence draped her fingers over his arm, tracing the length of one of his tattoos.
Despite his unease, Cyrus couldn’t help the shiver that coursed through him or the way his skin prickled from her touch. “I—I don’t . . .” His words faltered, stuck in his throat. Why couldn’t he speak? Gods, she was standing so close to him . . .
She moistened her lips, and Cyrus’s eyes were inexplicably drawn to the movement, tracing the curve of her mouth with his gaze. Heat churned in his belly.
“You must be very powerful, then,” she murmured, her voice a soft caress in his ear.
A strangled noise climbed up his throat. He swallowed hard, feeling ridiculous. “Well, yes. I am.” Thank the gods his voice remained level.
Prudence caught her lower lip between her teeth, and Cyrus had the strangest urge to do the same, to drag his teeth along that full lip and see just what kind of sounds he could elicit from her . . .
Her eyes burned with a heady desire that made Cyrus lean into her, yearning for more. “You like playing games?” she asked, arching a single eyebrow as if issuing a challenge.
“Yes,” Cyrus said at once, though he couldn’t remember the question.
Prudence looked positively eager as she leaned into him, her face alight, and whispered, “Well, I’m good at games, too. And you, Your Highness, have just been beaten.”
Cyrus squinted, not understanding her meaning. “What the hell are you—” He broke off with a strangled cry as something tugged at his feet, jerking him down until he crumpled to the ground.
Then Prudence was standing above him, grinning wickedly. “Enjoy the ride.”
“What—” Cyrus’s protests were muffled as Prudence’s vines wrapped around him, coiling tightly as if they were serpents. He choked on his breath as one vine in particular squeezed the air from him. The ivy felt like ropes around his ankles and wrists, pinning him to the ground.
“Let’s go then!” Prudence called over her shoulder, setting off down the road.
Cyrus struggled and writhed, but he was thoroughly tied down. Reality crashed into him as he realized he had been played. Prudence had been toying with him. Manipulating him. Like the lying, conniving witch she was.
He was a fool. An utter fool. He deserved this for letting his guard down and falling for such a devious ploy.
The ivy underneath him started to shift and glide as if he were on a leafy sled and Prudence was the horse pulling on the reins.
A string of expletives burst from his mouth, but then the vines covered that, too, cutting off his curses as he careened down the road after Prudence.
SEAFARERS
PRUE
The victory of triumphing over Cyrus’s little temper tantrum was fleeting. Prue couldn’t shake the hauntingly devastated look of her mother from her mind even as they reached the docks.
But her thoughts of parting from Polina quickly fled from her mind when she found the chaos awaiting them. A crowd of people surrounded the Daybreaker, Krenia’s largest ship, but no one was climbing aboard.
After ensuring Cyrus was still safely tied up in her vines, Prue strode forward until she found the captain, a tall, muscular man named Davies.
“What’s going on?” Prue demanded, putting as much authority in her voice as she could muster.
“We were going to set sail, and then this happened.” Davies gestured to the open sea.
Prue followed his gaze to the shimmering gold barrier surrounding the island—and the mass of ghosts waiting on the other side.
“The crew are too afraid to leave,” Davies continued. “And I can’t blame them!”
“I have to board a ship,” Prue said insistently. “If I don’t, the ghosts will only keep multiplying.”
Davies only spread his hands, a helpless look on his face. “I can’t man the ship on my own.”
Prue chewed on her lower lip in deliberation. Then, she straightened and lifted her chin. “I’ll protect the ship.”
Davies raised an eyebrow. “You will?”
“Yes. I will enchant the ship with the same magic.” Prue waved a hand to the barrier. “Everyone on board will be protected.”
When Davies continued to watch her dubiously, Prue gritted her teeth and hissed, “I’m the Maiden of the coven of Krenia. Do you doubt my abilities?”
Davies’ spine straightened, his face smoothing. “Of course not.”
“Then, assemble your crew. Tell them to prepare to set sail.”
Davies nodded quickly. “Of course, my lady.”
Ignoring the weariness settling into her bones, Prue stood next to the still-bound Cyrus as the crew hastened to prepare the ship. Some outright refused, glancing warily at the ghosts hovering by the barrier. But, thankfully, enough crew members agreed to sail in exchange for Prue’s protection.
She had no idea how she would protect the entire ship and its occupants. But she had to try. There were no other options. She had to leave this island.
When at last the captain called for the passengers to board, Prue waved a hand, summoning her vines to urge Cyrus forward. At their approach, Davies raised an eyebrow at Prue’s prisoner, still tied down to the bed of ivy.
In answer to his unspoken question, Prue said, “This is my prisoner. He’s responsible for the ghost attack on the village.”
A muffled outburst signaled Cyrus’s indignation, but she ignored him.
Davies cast a wary look at Cyrus. “Are you certain it’s wise to bring him aboard?” A flicker of fear shone in his eyes.
“I have him contained.” Prue’s voice was thick with authority and power. “He won’t cause you or your crew any trouble.”
Davies cleared his throat and nodded. “Very good, my lady.” He waved them aboard.
As Prue climbed onto the ship, her limbs throbbed, the cost of using so much magic finally wearing on her. She took a deep breath, but it did nothing to fortify her drained body. Behind her, her vines eased Cyrus on deck, then receded back to the ground.
It was just as well. Her vines wouldn’t survive without something rooting them to the earth. But Cyrus didn’t need to know that.
Prue knelt at Cyrus’s feet while he spat leaves from his mouth. “Did you enjoy the ride, darling?” she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.
“Bitch,” he choked, spitting a chunk of ivy at her.
Prue only smirked at him. “I’ve been called worse.” She traced a finger along the raw welts on his wrists from her vines. He snarled, jerking away from her, and her grin widened. “Don’t test me, Cyrus. Or I’ll tie you up again.”
Cyrus’s eyes were blazing, his jaw taut, but he said nothing.
Ignoring his murderous looks, Prue stood, tying her long curls behind her in a messy braid. As the crew prepared to set sail, she peered over the crowd of passengers, longing for one last look at her beloved island. The palm trees swayed in the unearthly breeze that whispered over the island, a product of the death magic now coursing through the entire realm. Even though the island was still, the air was thick with magic, pulsing and waiting for them on the outskirts of the barrier.
I did this, Prue thought. A knot developed in her throat. Did this mean Mona’s sacrifice had been for nothing? Her sister died so the village would be safe from undead spirits. And now they were back, threatening the entire realm—as if Mona’s death hadn’t happened at all.
I’ll bring her back, Prue vowed. That was, after all, why she was aboard this ship in the first place: not just to return Cyrus to his realm and rid the mortal world of these ghosts, but also to bring back her sister.
Prue glanced over her shoulder, ensuring Cyrus wasn’t causing any trouble. Sure enough, he stood behind her, arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he refused to look at her.
Still sulking, I see, Prue thought to herself, biting back a smile.
The ship set sail, the crew shouting to each other as the boat shifted forward. Prue placed a hand along the wooden beam of the ship, murmuring a quick prayer to the Triple Goddess as the vessel sailed along.
Please give me the strength to protect the boat from the spirits, she thought, her eyes closing. Please.
She bit down on her lip, her eyes opening as she turned to face forward, watching as they drew nearer and nearer to that shimmering gold barrier. She called on her magic, waiting for her third eye to open . . . But nothing happened. Warmth filled her chest, but the aching in her limbs made her go stiff, her magic faltering.
